How Many Days?
by dylanhart
Summary: Quinn hates Rachel Berry and her suspenders. And each day she wears them, that hate gets a little more desperate and little less sturdy.
1. Chapter 1

This was written for a kink_meme prompt and posted on my site a couple months ago. A lot of you have already read it, but I figured I would put it up here as well. :) Enjoy.

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><p>Day 1 started the same as all her other days. In fact, she'd spent the past twenty-five seconds berating a freshman for blinking in her direction; things were just as they always were. But then it happened: her favorite pastime walked into Glee. Sure, pastimes tended to be things like baseball (for America), futbol (for the rest of the world), shouting in excitement (for Oprah), and Saturday morning cartoons (for children not subjected to Sue at age five for Cheerio-Breeding Camp). Not for Quinn, though.<p>

Rachel Berry was her favorite pastime: knocking her down, raining slushy over those doe eyes, stealing back any boy she thought she had enough clout to steal from Quinn in the first place. The list was endless, really: endless, glorious, bulleted, ten point, helevetica based heaven.

It actually hung inside her locker when she was thirteen and new to this routine. The first time Berry crossed her path in second grade, a ninety second moment between the pair almost sent their relationship on a completely different path for the future. Quinn needed a pencil. Rachel had a pink one.

After hesitating, Quinn asked to borrow it, shyly pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Of course Rachel offered it, among an array of other color choices while explaining how pink was the still the best, and smiled that token Rachel Berry smile that even at age seven threatened to knock her ears off her face. Quinn took the pink, eager to make a new friend. She already liked Rachel and her cute front-bow, polka dot dress. She liked her headband. She liked how she was always jumping around the room, prancing down the halls, and singing song after song. Quinn just liked her; they seemed like the perfect best friend fit.

And then her father happened. The second the name of her new soon-to-be-best friend left her lips that night at the dinner table, the calm, cool, and collected raise of her father's right hand halted any further conversation.

"Not acceptable, Quinnie," he said. She asked why. His hand slowly dropped back to the table and then she was told "why" was to never be her in vocabulary when it came to her father's wishes. That was enough for her in second grade. She never asked for a pencil again. And then her priest showed the same response to the mention of Rachel and her fathers. That was enough for Quinn in fifth grade. Then Sue fully entered her life, pledged greatness for everything and she, too, denied Rachel. That was enough for Quinn in seventh grade.

You see, her upbringing practically engrained it in her DNA to deny Rachel Berry, not that she was looking for an explanation. She didn't need one. Because sometime during her freshman year, Quinn started finding it fun, really fun. Who knew slushy facials could be such art?

But something changed today, what Quinn would eventually refer to as Day 1. Rachel blew into glee like she always did, head held high, energy exploding, and that damn smile still threatening to knock her ears off. Quinn scowled as her eyes slowly took the girl in, her abrasive presence never capable of being ignored. That's when she saw them: the suspenders that would ruin her way of life.

They were _black_, starkly standing out against Rachel's white button down. They were _tight_ and Rachel's breasts almost seemed to deny them the ability to lay flat against her front. So instead, they hugged taut against either edge, only allowing relief once they rounded the peaks and headed straight from Rachel's never ending black slacks. They clipped _tight_. So tight. The symmetry of it all was just... astounding... to Quinn.

Perfect, she thought. They were perfect.

And then she realized she hadn't taken a breath in 45 seconds. The swimming feeling in her brain told her so. She inhaled deeply and stupid Rachel Berry was now floating towards her, looking oh so curious with that goddamn (forgive her, Father) smile and that goddamn symmetry staring her down.

"Quinn? Why are you..._ leering_ at me?"

That's all it took to pull Quinn back from her momentary lapse of sanity.

"No one is ever going to _leer_ at you, Berry," she huffed and recoiled in her seat. It felt good. It felt right. Ah, life back to normal. The dejection on the girl's face didn't go unnoticed and neither did the slight pang of regret in the pit of Quinn's heel. Yes, her human emotions burrowed that low.

Day 28 started much like Day 1 with a few exceptions. For reasons only due to certain symmetry, Quinn's HBICness towards one Rachel Berry slackened over the last four weeks. Slackened, Quinn knew, was far different from dissipated so she was semi okay with this new develop. She still had it, she just, you know, didn't access it as much. It didn't mean she wasn't still Quinn Fabray. And besides, she was semi okay with this new development mainly because it all went back to symmetry and that was something Quinn just could not get out of her head.

It haunted her dreams. It haunted the backs of her eyelids. She even spent fifteen minutes one afternoon in math class attempting to prevent her eyes from blinking because every time she did, she saw those suspenders, those curves, those edges, and that goddamn symmetry. Her eyes dried out pretty quickly. The pain felt good, oddly.

She found herself in a routine of not blinking, hardly sleeping, and overall avoiding one Rachel Berry. She was taking a break from her favorite pastime. And who would care? Everyone has an off season.

The days went on like this until the pain subsided. The images subsided. Four weeks was like a year in high school time, much like dog years. She could feel it slowly shaking off her shoulders when day 28 rolled around and proved her completely wrong.

Quinn breezily rounded the corner into British Literature, her first and favorite class of the day, and struck gold in the form of black suspenders. They stared her straight in the face from the torso of that goddamn girl two feet away.

"Morning, Quinn! It's almost summer," she chirped.

She chirps. Quinn loathed the chirping. She was always chirping, morning and afternoon. Quinn was sure she would also chirp at night if Berry ever had the privilege of seeing Quinn during the evening hours. _Scoff._

"Berry, stop chirping at me," she muttered, fixed her eyes on the Shakespeare adorned walls and about-faced her way all the way to the corner desk in the last row. _Eyes off the symmetry, eyes off the symmetry._

"I would hardly call what I'm doing chirping, Quinn. I'm simply greeting you good morning." The troll followed her, go figure. Eyes on Shakespeare, Quinn. Stay strong. She hated that east to west coast smile. She hated those curious eyes digging into her soul without her permission. She hated the symmetry. She hated the curves. She hated the way they pulled so taut against that purple, skin tight, delicious- Focus! Old Bard!

"I think class is starting soon," she released from her suddenly dry mouth.

Rachel grinned, rotated to her right and pulled a book from her tote. She turned back, opened it on the desk next to Quinn and faced the front.

This was new. Rachel never sat in the back row. Rachel never sat near her. Or maybe _she_ never sat near _Rachel._ Either way.

"Berry."

"Fabray."

"What?"

"_What?"_

"Why did you call me Fabray?"

"You call me Berry."

"It's your name…"

"As much as your name is Fabray…"

Quinn didn't have a retort for that. Was Rachel… bantering with her? Was this banter? And seriously, she was calling her Fabray now? How weird was that?

"Yeah, but, I mean, everyone calls you, it's your name," she ungracefully stuttered out.

"No, my name is Rachel. Most people tend to be called by their first name, not their surname, Quinn. I find it allows you to dehumanize me, but I guess I shouldn't complain. It's a step up from Manhands. Although I never really understood that one, my hands are the size of a five year old's," she said, twisted to face Quinn and held her hands up for display. "See? Your insults are hardly accurate."

Who was this weird creature in front of her? This intriguing, insightful, fantastic suspender-wearing creature?

"Berry."

Her hands fell to her lap, pulling Quinn's eyes along the symmetry laden path on reflex. Her breath caught, immediately forcing them back to the Bard on the wall. Rachel couldn't retain her chuckle at the girl's odd behavior and followed her gaze to the poster.

"Got a fetish for old prose, Quinn?"

"Got a fetish for _something_…" she mumbled and pulled her eyes to the teacher gathering her things at the front.

"You know, today feels like it's going to be a wonderful day. Do you feel that way?"

"Huh?"

"I don't know. Just feels a bit different. I mean, you're _almost _being nice to me."

"I _am_ being nice to you."

"And you're even getting defensive at the thought of me thinking you weren't being _completely_ nice. See? It's different. I think it's going to be a day," she chirped yet again with a sweet half smile, shy eyes, and an unconscious stroke of her left suspender.

_Gasp._ Holy Father, who art in heaven…

It's the first day of Senior Year and also Day 101. Summer came and went with multiple Cheerio camps, bonfire parties, snooze fest family vacations, raging girls' trips with Britt and San, and now here she was, ready to take on McKinnely at the ultimate peak of her thrown.

She was queen, literally and physically. One more year and she would be out of Lima, out of Ohio, and set free on the gorgeous world she knew had to be out there somewhere. She would find it and she would reign.

She was always meant to reign. Everything she planned for culminated into this moment. The rock of her hips, the sway of her ponytail, the freaking air around her screamed this was it. Look out, Lima. This was her year. The motion in her ocean ran strong as she strutted through the parking lot and onto the corridor towards the front doors of her castle.

That's when Day 101 officially began.

Rachel Berry.

Quinn liked to lie to herself and say she had almost forgotten the girl existed that summer. But at least she could close her eyes without distress and she'd won an award for some Shakespeare Appreciation writing.

She could've used the extra focus in that moment breezing down the corridor, her eyes slowly peeling left, left and further left.

White tank top. Black mini skirt. Long, curly brown locks.

And black fucking suspenders.

Rachel Berry. Sex on a stick.

And those legs: they split and went to heaven.

Christ, she was like candy. And God, she was going to be the death of-

Crash! Lights out.

When Quinn reopened her eyes a few seconds later, she found herself on her back on the ground, blood running down her cheeks, her nose wailing in pain. With the distant sound of shoes clickity clacking, students gasping, and her throat gurgling, Quinn had no idea what the hell just happened.

And then she stretched her body out in pain and her feet found the front door to the school. The front door.

God, she'd just walked straight into the front door because she was eye fucking Rachel Berry. And speaking of Rachel Berry, Quinn's view of the clouds above disappeared and a curtain of luscious brown hair enveloped her.

"Oh my Moses, look at your nose! You're bleeding everywhere! You're lucky I always carry a small first aid kit with me, courtesy of my over-protective fathers, but really because I just find it proactive and the smart thing to do in this day and age."

"Berry, stop, you're making my head throb," Quinn groaned and rolled to her stomach, eager to shut out the hideous incident and beautifully haunting view. Tiny hands found her back, slowly dancing to her shoulder where they gathered Quinn's hair from her ponytail and secured it away from the bloody ground. Mortified, she was. Quinn was plain and simply mortified.

"Quinn. You need to sit up. Come on, you're hurt. Take the gauze and let's get you to Nurse Henderson. You might have broken your nose."

"Leave me alone, please," she groaned yet again and fought the tears battling for release in her eyes. This was not happening. And god, her nose was on fire.

"I will not! Stop being so stubborn, dammit! Roll over here now and let me help you," she demanded and hauled Quinn back around.

"Since when do you cuss?"

"Since when are you such a petulant child? 'Leave me alone, leave me alone.' So you walked into a door? So what. Get over it and get up. C'mon," she said while pulling a nasty, blood dripping Quinn Fabray to her feet. How Rachel got herself in these situations, she would never know.

"You are so annoying sometimes," Quinn growled and let Rachel drape Quinn's arm over her shoulder before wrapping her other around the blonde's waist.

"Yeah and you would never last on the bottom tier at this school," Rachel mumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have no tolerance for embarrassment. Look at you: you walk into a door, break your nose, and cry like it's the end of the world. Try getting slushied for two hundred and seventy days each school year." Quinn froze.

"You kept count?" Rachel looked away.

"No, I just know how many days are in a school year."

"But that would mean…"

"I got slushied daily. Yes, that would be what that means," she replied quickly and tried to pull Quinn back on their path to the nurse.

"I- I don't…"

"That almost sounds like a stunned apology," Rachel smirked. "Come on, Quinn, please walk so I don't have to drag you to the nurse. I would hate to embarrass you further on your first day as the senior head hauncho."

"That doesn't matter to-"

"Oh, sure it does. But it's okay. I get it. C'mon," she continued and the next thing Quinn knew she was being laid back on a medical bed getting her nose tended to. Rachel stood by her side and Quinn found herself incredibly pissed off that the nurse's office had no decorations up yet. She had no distractions, sans the broken nose, to keep her eyes off those suspenders tracing every perfect curve of Berry like treasure map.

And then the bell rang for first period and the hesitation on Rachel's face and the way she worried her bottom lip told Quinn she was seriously torn in the decision to either be late for her first class her senior year or to leave Quinn alone on their first day of senior year. It was endearing, Quinn found, to know Rachel actually cared, a lot.

"Go," Quinn said. "It's fine, really. I'm fine."

The nurse continued to fix her up and Rachel looked between Quinn's eyes and the nurse's hands hard at work. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, nibbled a few nervous bites, and then smiled.

"Okay. I'll go. As long as you swear you're fine."

"I'm fine. I swear. Thank you. I'll… see you around," Quinn forced a small smile. The pain shot straight up her sinuses and she regretted the attempt at placating the brunette's worries. It wasn't worth that shot of pain.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you," she said with a shy hair tuck and then she was turning, those suspenders turning with her. And oh, god, Quinn found heaven in the back view. Tight across her toned shoulders, over her upper back and then straight down to her skirt where they branched away about an inch and a half from her lower back. Rachel was tiny, Quinn realized. She could probably wrap her hands around her waist.

But why would she ever do that?

Even so, something in her reached out. She couldn't stop it, couldn't help it, and couldn't deny it. Her fingertips grazed the black suspender material and tingles shot up her arm, down her body and out her other fingers. It was lightning fast and just as intense.

She wanted to bottle the feeling, put it in a flask and drink it when she needed a hit of Rachel fucking Berry. She could drink her daily, hourly, for life.

Her hand fluttered back to her side as the moment passed and Rachel reached the door. She twisted slightly on her heel and locked her eyes on Quinn's.

"Happy senior year, Fabray," she said sweetly with a quirk of a smile.

"Happy senior year, Rachel."


	2. Chapter 2

The Senior Kick-Off Dance approached faster than Quinn wanted. Her little front door "incident" seriously put a hitch in her plans to reign supreme. It was taking longer than she would have preferred to snatch back the high profile level of respect she deserved from her peers. She was Quinn Fabray, for Christ's sake.

She didn't go to dances alone. She went with who she wanted to go with and she tended to have her pick of anyone. That year, Quinn's options were slightly limited and she'd chosen Tommy Davies, wide receiver and All-American football star. He looked like a Ken Barbie doll. Quinn figured he'd do. And he was doing just fine until her eyes landed on Rachel Berry on the dance floor and Day 105 began.

She wore a short, fancy red dress with Quinn's worst enemies attached on either side. They were stalking her, she knew. Every time she thought she was free of this, free of anything but a pseudo friendship with Berry, there they were. They came screaming back into her life with a vengeance and all Quinn could do was stand there, hold out a bib and freely drool.

Add dancing with that elated, bright smile to the mix and Quinn was dunzo.

"Absolutely dunzo," she muttered.

"What, babe?" Tommy asked and held out the punch he fetched for her.

Quinn slowly pulled her eyes off her favorite pastime and pinned Tommy with them. "Don't call me babe," she corrected and proceeded to stride right past his outstretched hand and into the sea of sweaty, dancing bodies. Quinn dipped and stepped around multiple people for fear of them rubbing up on her. She didn't need _that_ against her skin.

She needed Rachel Berry against her skin, under her body, spread eagle in her bed.

God, she wasn't even denying it anymore. She wanted Berry. Or maybe she just wanted those suspenders. That's it, she was fashion jealous. That's all. Fashion jealous.

Yep, there's the denial.

And there was Rachel, in all her glory. Finn sloppily danced a few feet in front of her and Quinn danced her eyes down Rachel's backside. Her hair bumped around with her moves and her hips swayed gracefully with the horrendous beat coming from the horrendous DJ in the corner. School dances. Scoff.

But Rachel Berry dancing… no scoff. Total serious business. And she just had to be near it, in her area, in her face, against her ass, tugging those suspenders.

As if Rachel was reading her thoughts and sensing her presence, she stopped dancing and spun around, her eyes landing hard on Quinn before a smile and laugh that could cure cancer erupted across her face.

"Fabray! You came!" she screamed with a clap and threw her arms around Quinn's neck in a hug. All Quinn knew was that her body was finally pressed against Rachel Berry's and she didn't want it to end.

But then it was ending and Quinn wanted to _cry_ at the pain it caused throughout her entire body. She unconsciously stepped forward to get a bit of the proximity back and Rachel went back to swaying her hips and bouncing her shoulders.

"Rachel!" Quinn shout-whispered over the music to pull her attention back. But Rachel wasn't hearing it, she was lost. The rhythm had got her, just like Estefan warned them. "Rachel!" Nothing. The girl spun back to Finn. God, she was making this difficult. "Racheeel!" This time, she snuck a hand out, looped her pointer finger around one of her back suspenders and gave a tug.

The girl stumbled back and the proximity closed by the second. She stumbled again and again and again and Quinn realized she had stopped pulling on her seconds ago. This was Rachel.

Rachel was pressing her back into Quinn and Rachel was snaking a hand up over her shoulder, tangling it in Quinn's hair and pulling her closer.

Who was Quinn to deny her a dance? She slid her left arm around the girl's waist and snapped her flush to the front of the blonde's body. She felt the tight material of the suspenders splayed across Rachel's back graze her breasts and her nipples hardened instantly.

Lord help her if Rachel could feel that. God, she figured the DJ could feel. She could probably turn sideways and clothesline the entire room to the floor they were so stuck out. Goddamn symmetry beneath her.

And the goddamn nails scratching heaven into the back of Quinn's scalp, pulling her face further into the sweet fruity scented, sweaty neck of Rachel Berry.

Do not lick it, do not lick it, do NOT lick it. She released a tortured breath, heating Rachel's already hot skin and she felt the abs below her fingers twitch. Interesting.

She released a small moan into the brunette's neck, testing the science once again. Sure enough, the abs twitched below her fingers and Rachel's ass rolled back into her. It shot heat straight from her sex to the tips of her toes and back.

Oh god, she would do criminal things to that ass.

"Rachel," she breathed out, unsure why, but unable to stop it.

"Fabray," the other girl hummed, like pure sensuality. "Are you drunk, Miss Fabray?" Quinn snapped her head up to meet Rachel's sideway glance at hers.

"Of course I'm not drunk," she deadpanned. "Why would you think that?"

"We're practically dry humping on the dance floor and your parents basically sponsored this event. Why wouldn't I think that you needed alcohol to get within five feet of me at something like this?"

"I couldn't stand not being within five feet of you," she mumbled on reflex and returned to her previous cavern in Rachel's neck. She could feel the brunette's saucer wide eyes.

She's doing it. She's wearing them. It's now Day 114, nine days later, and she's wearing them. She's seriously trying to kill Quinn.

It's jeans and a yellow t-shirt today, black suspenders draped tightly over her torso. Nine days. It's too much, too soon. She had no recovery period. She needs her recovery period to ensure the pendulum levels back out.

She needs her recovery period. Because without it, she does things like what she just did. What was now causing Rachel to whip around, stare her down with dark, smoldering, yet curious eyes with a defiant hand on her hip and huff on her lips.

Quinn should've figured. You can't pull back and snap a girl's suspenders at your liking. It's just… not right?

Yet so right.

Again. Day 117. Quinn started sitting on her hands, reading endless books, and skipping her two shared classes with Rachel. Proximity was now a very, very dangerous thing.

She knew. Rachel, that is. She had to. Day 119. Three times in five days. Who wore suspenders that much? It wasn't the 1950s. Quinn should feel safe in the confines of today's fashion. Today's fashion meant she didn't need to fear the suspenders more than once a quarter. But now!

Now it was three times in one week and Quinn's insides were constantly boiling right around a hundred and one degrees on a daily basis. She was starting to twitch uncontrollably with the urge to god, just fucking do something to them, to her, to her in them.

She pushed her head further in her locker to drown out the sounds of the pod people filling the hallway.

"You are okay. You are simply at school. The day is over. Grab your stuff. Walk to the door. You are focused on your homework. You are the Queen B. You don't get flustered. You worship God, not susp-"

"Hey there, Fabray!"

"Oh Jesus," she jumped a foot, slammed the back of her head into her locker door, just about losing her balance and plummeting to the floor.

"Oh, sorry! I thought you heard me walk up. How's your day?"

"Are we small talking now?" Quinn reflexively shot back, eyes finding anything and everything except her yellow shirt and black suspenders, which meant looking everywhere but at Rachel because the outfit _overtook_ her, was her, _why was there no relief_? The awkwardness was not lost on the tiny brunette.

"Well, I thought we'd kind of become friends over the past few weeks. Why are you acting so weird this week? It's like you're going through drug withdrawal or something. You're all twitchy and stuff."

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

"Sound like an addict, too."

"Berry."

"Oh, we're back to Berry, huh?"

"We were never off Berry."

"We were when your lips were buried in my neck last Thursday night at the dance." Quinn visibly gulped; desperate her locker would provide something to sustain her attention, desperate for a tornado, a sink hole, anything to take her out of here.

But no. Nothing. There was no mercy from the big man upstairs.

"Quinn."

"I need go. I have, like, many many homeworks- that's a word right- to do and then I might have practice and it's family dinner night and actually, I think I have to pick my cousin up at the air-"

"Can I come over?" she interrupted and Quinn snapped to her.

"Come over to where?"

"To mars," she quipped. Quinn didn't flinch. "To your house, silly. I can help with your homework while you do cheerios before we have dinner on the way to get your cousin," she smirked. Quinn found herself speechless.

"Um, yeah, I guess I don't find an issue with that plan." And to herself: "_Why_ can't I find an issue with that plan?"

"Okay, great. I'll see you there," she said with a wink and a hair flip.

"Hey! You don't know where I-"

"Yes, I do!" she hollered over her shoulder with a wave.

One angst-ridden, too-short car drive home and Quinn now found herself across from Rachel Berry in her kitchen, the cooking island separating them like a grace from God.

"So," Rachel said.

"So."

"How was school?"

"Uncomfortable."

"Yeah, why are you so twitchy?"

"Um… I'm diabetic?"

"Try again."

"Tourettes."

"Again."

"I have cancer," Quinn deadpanned.

"One more time," she said, stepping around the corner to her right. Quinn stepped to the right as well, effectively putting the island back between them.

"Cheerio practice is just tiring me out lately," she tried.

Rachel thought on this for a moment and seemed to accept it. She brought her bottom lip between her teeth and locked her eyes on Quinn.

"I keep thinking about our dance," she purred.

"It was… fun?" the blonde stuttered.

"More than."

"More than what?"

"It was more than _fun_," Rachel said and again stepped around the next corner to her right. Quinn matched her stride and stepped right, too.

"Okay, 'more than fun,'" Quinn repeated and took a deep breath. How could she end this and end this quick?

"Why do I feel like we're dancing right now?"

"More like a dizzy merry-go-round," the blonde muttered.

"So then stop going 'round," Rachel whispered, locking her eyes deeply on Quinn's. There she went again, raping her soul. The hot seconds passed as Quinn desperately tried to keep her eyes on Rachel's for fear that the second they faltered and traced down the brunette's suspender-clad torso, she'd be done for.

When Rachel snaked her tongue out over her bottom lip and her eyes blinked slowly in such heavy lust, Quinn thought maybe this eye contact thing wasn't such a good idea either.

Suddenly Rachel was jerking right so Quinn did, too. But no, Rachel swirled left around the edge and landed right next to Quinn. Her breathing picked up instantly and exponentially, every other gasp being robbed by Rachel. Her chest throbbed. She was going to lose. She was going to lose at this hold-her-eyes-on-Rachel's-eyes thing. God, she was going to lose.

And she could freaking hear and see Rachel's heart beating six inches away from her. It was practically popping out of her chest, slamming into her face. That's when she lost.

"Rachel," she breathed, her eyes finally falling to the suspenders. She drew maps with her eyes, learning every millimeter of every inch of them. They danced over Rachel's breasts, her abs, the clips, god those hardening little dents in the middle of her peaks.

"Fabray," Rachel murmured right back and slightly swayed a bit forward.

It was enough to slap Quinn out of her haze. She stiffened, jerked up, and retreated backwards to the opposite side of the island, her eyes never leaving Rachel's wide-eyed shock.

"Can you leave, please?" Quinn practically pleaded as the picture of her, her parents and her sister focused to the left behind Rachel on the cabinet. The sniffle that request produced snapped her focus back to the girl in front of her.

"If that's what you want."

"Yes, that is what I want," Robot Quinn replied. Rachel's gaze found her shoes, her bottom lip sucked back into her mouth, for different reasons this time. Quinn assumed it was to control her quivering chin.

"Okay," she mumbled and started to leave the kitchen. That's when Quinn realized she'd have to pass her to achieve that and make her way to the front door. Quinn stepped right again, keeping the island between them as Rachel walked through the kitchen towards the front.

The action wasn't lost on the brunette. She shook her head. Ashamed? Disappointed? Sad? All of the above? Quinn wanted to shoot herself and then shoot the creator of the suspenders.

That asshole was the only reason she was in this predicament. Goddamn inventors.


	3. Chapter 3

They hadn't spoken in five weeks. Symmetry effectively ruined the one bourgeoning true friendship Quinn had going for her. Sure, the friendship line was a little grey, but whose wasn't? Right?

Right.

The day after Rachel Berry left her kitchen, vulnerability sliced and diced, Quinn knew they turned a corner in whatever track they were on. The brunette, not in an obviously purposeful way, steered clear of Quinn. They shared one class along with Glee and both rooms seemed big enough for the both of them. Thirty-five days of Rachel Berry freedom allowed her body to recover from Hell Week.

She could breathe again. It felt nice, really. She started appreciating the little things in life that she so badly trained herself to focus on after that day in her kitchen. She started running each night, by herself, around the neighborhood. It was a good head clearer. She found she had a passion for trees.

They lacked symmetry.

She found she enjoyed birds. When they chirped they sounded nothing like one Rachel Berry. Everything she did served a purpose: dissect the girl's uniqueness. That was the goal after-all. Remove the special air that Quinn had somehow built around the girl. Was Day 1 when the blonde started finding her special? She can't remember when it started. But now, it was thirty-five days after her last incident with the girl and Rachel Berry barely existed to her.

Mission accomplished, she figured and yanked the door open to Glee for their afternoon session.

Mission so _not_ accomplished. Rachel Why-God-Why Berry sat in the front row, legs crossed, hands perched on her knees, and bright, knowing smile across her face. Her eyes were locked on Quinn like they had been locked on the door just waiting for the moment she entered. Day 162: Black suspenders. Red skirt. Red shoes. White shirt. Tan, endless, endless legs.

"God, make it stop," Quinn cried under her breath as she averted her gaze and headed to the top right side of the risers. The girl was not wearing those this morning. She was not wearing them in their class. Who adds accessories to their outfit mid school day?

Why was Rachel Berry _doing_ this to her?

God, she should be proactive like the other girl and rob her of them. She should sneak into the Berry household in the middle of the night, get her ninja on, and thieve the damn things.

Then she would get her pyro on, hold a bonfire and roast them. She could do that, right? There was nothing "crazy" about that plan.

God, she was losing it. She took a deep breath, and steeled herself for a long Glee session.

It passed without incident. Rachel didn't even request to sing a song and Quinn found if she stuck her thumb out juuuust so to right of her knee, she could create an eclipse effect and block the girl completely from view.

Like she mentioned earlier: it's the little things. The little things work- until the big things happen. And when Schuester and his vest dismissed them, a big thing happened.

Rachel hung back.

Rachel never hung back. Rachel stormed out, eager to get home to work on whatever inanimate object she was writing about that week. Last week it was her couch and the comfort she found there. The week before it was her pool and the innocent nostalgia it gave her.

And Quinn didn't even find that ridiculous. She found Rachel Berry hanging back ridiculous. Quinn scurried to gather her things and bolt before hanging back became chatting and chatting became Rachel Berry riding her on the piano, suspenders as her reigns.

Oh god.

She must get out of there now. Her hands fumbled over her bag loops, butter fingered her jacket multiple times and every step she took, her feet caught another chair leg. She effectively destroyed the entire northeast side of the risers, leaving a whoppy-jawwed path of chairs in her wake and a loud racket ringing throughout the room.

All of that to fail. And fail hard. Rachel grabbed her wrist to halt her escape and held her there silently until the rest of the club found refuge through the door. Quinn wanted that refuge. She wanted to scream for help. She needed a rape whistle. Why did her soul not have a rape whistle? Prize with purchase or something like that, come on!

"Quinn," she spoke. Quinn's eyes fluttered shut and her head sagged. The fingers around her wrist tightened and pulled her back around. Something was different. She felt it. She smelled Rachel Berry's distinct fruity scent and Quinn's eyed locked tight. Her eyelids displayed trees upon trees with birds whistling throughout.

Refuge.

"Quinn. Open your eyes," the brunette quietly, calmly, demanded. Quinn barely shook her head. She'd fly from tree to tree with her bird friends. Her HBIC status was practically gone from her lack of demanding it. Maybe the birds would let her be their HBIC. That could be fun, freeing, okay.

Yeah. Yes. That would be nice.

"I said open your eyes," she demanded a little louder.

They could fly to Paris. Visit the Taj. Live by trees in Australia. Her birds would love her.

"Dammit, open your eyes!"

They snapped open and Jesus, what was she previously thinking about? Deep chocolate eyes stilled her and she could see them. _Them._ Her peripheral vision hated her.

Rachel's tongue nervously twitched out across her lips and those fingers wrapped around the blonde's wrist trembled ever so slightly. Quinn wouldn't have even felt it if her pulse wasn't jumping out of her skin to feel every inch of Rachel's touch. The girl's chest expanded with a deep breath, mumbling something about her _lucky suspenders_- wait, what- not failing her now, and then she spoke, her controlled voice back to normal. _Slightly._

"Kiss me," Rachel demanded. It sent shockwaves.

"Lucky suspenders?" There was the denial. She was fully ready to ignore the previous demand even though it triggered a tsunami through her body, destroying everything from top to bottom.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Good things seem to happen when I wear them," she said, stepping another inch forward. "I mean, the day you changed, became my friend, I was wearing them."

Gulp. "I hadn't noticed."

Rachel took another step forward and continued, "So I'm wearing them now, hoping it helps. Because I'm already shaking here. I need a little luck on my side right now, standing here asking Quinn Fabray to kiss me. God, I must be insa-"

"Stop talking," Quinn demanded. Rachel grinned. Oops. "No, not for that reason." Her smile dropped. Quinn took a step back. "We're friends."

"But-"

"You said it yourself. Don't screw it up. Don't do this. We can't do this."

"You're rambling," she said, the left side of her lips curling up in a smile.

"Your point?" the blonde replied with a cautionary step back, her eyes narrowed on Rachel.

"You ramble when you're nervous." No. This had to stop. The knowing her, the predicting her, the feeling her, the soul-raping, it had to stop.

"You don't know anything. Don't pretend you do."

With that, Quinn walked out and left yet another sliced and diced Rachel Berry in her wake. Maybe it _was_ engrained in her DNA, after all.

Christmas arrived in a hurry. Everything magically illuminated their small town and it was like sugarplums and candy canes fell from every direction, including peoples' mouths. Everyone was just so… elated. All the time. Every day.

What was with this happiness?

It made her ill. And now she had to attend a freaking Glee Christmas party, like they were actually friends who wanted to hang out at night together, where she was sure the gleefulness of the glee kids would make her vomit glee colored punch.

Ugh. It was revolting. Quinn was perfectly happy spending her Christmas break locked away at Casa de Fabray, content with movie days, running, and her trees. Human interaction was completely overrated. So were the phone calls from Santana and Brittany demanding she explain this newfound Quinn.

Newfound Quinn. That's what they called it, like she had changed. Whatever. Newfound Quinn would happily dip out the back door early if she could manage it without causing a scene if that's what she needed. She didn't care.

She didn't care. She didn't care even when her eyes caught her former favorite pastime, current favorite non-existent: Rachel Berry. Day 212. Lucky-suspenders clad with a hideous red and green striped shirt underneath it, she topped it off with long black pants.

Something about her screamed Classy Elf.

Snort. Ha. Classy Elf. Rachel would've enjoyed that nickname last year. _Quinn_ would've enjoyed that nickname last year. But now Rachel was her Non-Existent. Nicknames didn't exist in the Non-Existent. Nothing did.

And Quinn didn't care.

Rachel was relaxed back on her heel, her left ankle draped around her right, her hands clasping her red glass of punch and Finn currently entertaining her with whatever ogres used to entertain their hobbit friends.

Snort. Ha. Hobbit friends. Ogres. Quinn released a little giggle. Maybe there was alcohol in the punch. Maybe that was a good thing.

Maybe it wasn't.

He was flirting with her, Quinn realized from her perch on the bottom of the stairs, random glee clubbers meandering past her every few minutes. Rachel's eyes fluttered open and shut as her hand daintily landed on his chest, giving a slight, playful push.

Quinn knew that push. It was the "I need more inches away from you but you think I want to touch you" push. She'd used it back in the day of dating. God, she hadn't dated in months, unless you count her right hand.

Their attention caught Quinn's and they each gave a wave. Quinn gave a mandatory jerk of her hand back and let her eyes find her cup, if only for a few seconds. They meandered back up, eventually finding the pair once more.

Finn closed in on Rachel a little bit and something lit inside Quinn. Like a pilot light, she thought. A slight tick and her skin felt a degree warmer. Quinn hadn't felt warm in weeks. And she didn't care.

Finn reached up and ran his sausage fingers through the ends of Rachel's hair, twirling it a bit. Quinn felt another slight tick. Rachel gave a shy smile and found something interesting in her glass. What that was, Quinn didn't care.

The boy smiled his dreamy smile, ticked his head to the right to signal something in conversation and Rachel nodded in agreement. This made him smile even wider. She'd made him happy with that nod. Why he was happy, Quinn also realized she didn't care.

And then he was gesturing above. Rachel's eyes peeled up as Bing Crosby flooded over them through the stereo. Somehow it made Quinn feel a bit warm and fuzzy. Another tick up the notch. Rachel's eyes landed on the cheap, plastic, mistle-toe imitation plant hanging on the wide wall framing above them. The glee clubbers sitting at the dining table behind them watched Finn's gesture with rapt attention. The other glee clubbers spread about the living room in front of them found entertainment in Christmas-themed party games.

Quinn, once again, found herself not caring about all of it with the exception of Bing this time. The frost on the windows and the glow of the tree threatened her hatred for the happiness of the season. A tick in the thermometer.

Her face felt flushed and red. Her eyes slowly dragged from the girl of non-existent to the boy trying to woe her.

Rachel was playfully laughing in slow-motion now and Quinn found herself humming quietly and then singing slightly, her eyes dragging all over the girl.

"And though it's been said, many times, many ways…" she sang under her breath, eyes locked on that smile she'd known since second grade. Oh how things were so close to being so different. Did she blame her father? Her priest? Sue? Society?

Herself?

She didn't care. Finn pointed to the mistle-toe again and Quinn still didn't care. He stepped forward, flashing his mega watt smile again. He could be convincing when he tried, Quinn knew. Rachel knew, too.

God, they shared so much. They were interlocked in so many different, very existent, ways that Quinn couldn't believe it. Their lives paralleled each other for the past nine years. Rachel Berry was definitely engrained in her.

And here they were, not speaking, still on their own personal life track with each other like soul mates. How that continued like it did, Quinn didn't care. She just watched the scene unfold, watched their lives unfold, as if she could do anything to change the hand of fate they'd been dealt. She watched Rachel.

Wait, soul mates?

She watched Rachel's eyes shoot to hers.

They shot for half a second as Finn took another step forward. One half second and then another one. Her knuckles whitened around the cup she was holding to her striped shirt and suspendered torso. That look, what did it _mean_?

Bing continued to sing to them. And Quinn didn't care. She didn't care. She didn't care about any of it anymore. Her eyes danced around the room, taking in her pseudo friends. She didn't care what they thought. She didn't care where she stood in the hierarchy. She flat didn't care about anything more.

"I don't care," she breathed. And then her eyes widened. "Oh my god, I don't care," she gasped out to herself. Her legs straightened, bringing her to a stance. And then they moved forward, taking her through the crowded living room, around the coffee table, beside the Christmas tree and past the frosted windows.

She smiled at the heat her thermometer gave off. It ticked, ticked, and ticked. God, she was alive. And Finn stepped forward.

Quinn fluttered a few more steps, eyes on the back of her target, heart pounding through her chest, Bing encouraging her on. Finn leaned down.

Quinn reached out, grasped a suspender, and yanked her backwards and around. Rachel gasped. Finn balked.

Quinn kissed her.

And everything, _life_, clicked into place.


	4. Chapter 4

Day363 brought graduation five glorious months later. Quinn didn't know it was day 363 until Rachel dragged her into a janitor closet, thrust the blonde's hands under her gown and watched as Quinn's eyes fluttered shut when her fingers wrapped around suspenders.

"That's it, Q," Rachel murmured in her ear and Quinn gave them a yank, closing the distance between them, trying to crawl into Rachel. She was never close enough.

"You kill me with these, you know that?" Quinn groaned, attaching her lips to Rachel's. The sweet taste of her girlfriend never got old. Their lips slid together perfectly, caressing each other, biting each other, licking each other, teasing each other and then parting for each other.

Rachel slipped her tongue inside Quinn's and gave the roof of her mouth one long, flat lick. Quinn could feel it dragging her clit north like a small, fantastic string connected the two. She ran her tongue up the underside of Rachel's and waited for the brunette to moan like she always did.

She knew that tongue like the back of her hand. She'd felt it explore her mouth every day for the past five months. She knew it better than she knew her name.

Quinn closed her mouth around that tongue, sucked, then angled and opened back up. She glided her own tongue into Rachel's this time and the girl flicked the tip. It sent heat waves down the girls' bodies, pooling at the floor beneath them. Quinn snaked her hands around Rachel's back, reclaiming her grip on her favorite accessory and pulling them tight. They squeezed Rachel's breasts and pulled her pants up between her legs. It was the best control Quinn had ever felt in her life and why had it taken Rachel five months to wear them since their first kiss?

"You need to wear these more often," she mumbled into the brunette's mouth. She got her tongue sucked in return. A guttural moan escaped from deep within and in response, Rachel ran her hands down Quinn's back and laid claim to her ass, melding their hips together.

"I only wear them when I want to get lucky," she finally replied between nips to Quinn's lips, then jaw, then neck, then collarbone. Quinn released the breath she didn't realize she was holding, a far too common occurrence around Rachel, and then it dawned on her.

"You mean when you _need_ luck," Quinn corrected the poor girl. Rachel snorted and stopped her lips' descent, raising her dark eyes back up to Quinn's.

"No, Q. Tonight, we celebrate."

"What are we celebrating, Rach?" she replied, wrapping her arms around the shorter girl's neck and swaying slightly. They'd be barely slow dancing if they had music. The brunette tapped a finger to her chin in mock wonderment.

"We'd… be celebrating graduation. We made it four years without you killing me, without another broken nose," she said, placing a sweet kiss to her cheek. "We made it our entire senior year without a single slushy. I know you made that happen, love." Kiss to her other cheek. "We made it nine whole years alongside each other, ever intertwining, ever fighting, never quitting," she whispered with a kiss to her ear. "We made it through your denial, your recoiling from society, and then through society recoiling from us." Kiss to her other ear. "We made it through your parents rejecting you," kiss to her closed eyelid, swiping a stray tear. "We made it through my Nana, who always pledged for her daughter to find the perfect Jewish boyfriend, even if she had to have a heart attack in the process." Kiss to her other eyelid as Quinn chuckled with a sniff. "We made it through a week of hell, battling over the bathroom, when you moved into our spare room." Kiss to her lips. "Open your eyes, sweetheart."

Quinn pulled them open, her heart bursting through her chest.

"We'd be celebrating all of that. All of that which we did together. And-"

"That's certainly a reason to celebrate," Quinn smiled.

"I'm not done," Rachel stated surely.

"Oh. By all means, continue," she smirked. "What else would be celebrating?"

"Your acceptance to NYU."

"And your acceptance to Julliard."

"One more step in our intertwined lives."

"That's a good thing to celebrate," she purred and moved for a kiss. Rachel's finger found her lips, stopping her. Quinn arched an eyebrow and planted a kiss on the finger. Rachel's eyes fluttered a bit and the blonde could see them dilate.

"I said I'm not done."

"Sorry," she muttered through the finger.

"We'd be celebrating the fact that I love you," she stated, firmly locking her eyes on Quinn's. The girl's mouth dropped open, the finger running over her bottom lip a bit.

"Rach," she breathed.

"I know we haven't said that before, but I'm saying it now. And I don't care where you stand on being ready to-"

"I love you. I have since the second grade."

"I know."

"But Christ, it feels good to say it," she muttered and pulled the brunette closer, her lips finally finding the girl's. They fell into the warmth of it all, languidly drowning in each other until Rachel pulled back with a huff.

She panted heavily, "I'm still… _not done_."

"How do you follow that, Rach? What could be-"

"We'd _also_ be celebrating," she interrupted.

Quinn waited as the girl gathered herself for whatever reason. She could feel her hands trembling against her lower back.

"Babe, just say-"

"We'd be celebrating the fact that… the fact that I lasted long enough through the pressures of adolescence to happily be able to give my virginity to the girl who's loved me since second grade."

Oh, god. Quinn stopped breathing. Rachel continued.

"I'm wearing my lucky suspenders, Q. And tonight, you're taking them off me. _That_ is what we're ultimately celebrating," she said with a deep kiss to the stunned brunette. "_Now_ tell me it's a good thing to celebrate, baby."

"God, you have no idea," Quinn growled, returned her hands to those god-sent suspenders and solidified her appreciation with a tug and a kiss that sent rockets through the tiny brunette.

And ten hours later, in the low light of Rachel Berry's bedroom, the same tug sent the same rockets through the same girl.

"Are you nervous?" Quinn asked, slowly unbuttoning each button of Rachel's dress shirt, her eyes never leaving the girl's.

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes," she giggled. "I don't want to be. I trust you with everything in me, but I just… I can't not… I don't…" Quinn silenced her with a sweet kiss, finally reaching the bottom button and letting the shirt hang loose under those delightful suspenders.

Quinn let her gaze rake down the front of her girlfriend and her skin-toned bra. Her trembling fingers reached up to the drag down the front of her abs and Rachel's breath caught.

"It's okay to be nervous, babe. You should be," she purred. Rachel arched an eyebrow with a smirk.

"Oh should I? Why is that?"

"Because I have been dreaming about this," she said and ran her fingers down the suspenders, effectively brushing both her breasts in the process. "Dreaming about taking these off, taking you, taking your virginity. All of it. I have been dreaming about it for over a year. That's a lot of time for ideas."

"What ideas?" Rachel questioned, pulling Quinn's shirt up and over her head. Her eyes fell to her girlfriend's perfection and immediately had to be touching her. Her hands latched on the outer curve of each breast and Quinn's head fell back. "Good day to not wear a bra, Q."

"Touch them."

"I am."

"No," Quinn arched a little forward and the hardening peaks pointed out at Rachel.

"_Oh_."

She raised her thumbs and firmly brushed each nipple, her fingers still kneading the curves.

"Oh _yes_," Quinn groaned and a new confidence rushed over Rachel. She dragged her thumbs harder. And then harder. And then she pulled in her fingers to help pinch, twist, and tweak. Quinn's body squirmed in front of her, squirmed deliciously.

It was so erotic, Rachel had to do more. She couldn't let the moaning, groaning and whimpering stop. It was her favorite song already and it was only thirty seconds in. She leaned forward instantly, attached her lips to the right one while turning the left one and Quinn's knees about buckled beneath her.

Rachel swooped her right arm around her waist and backed her into the wall behind them, pinning her there for support. Quinn's leg arched up and around Rachel's waist suddenly the brunette's gaze locked on those hips rolling towards her, asking for something, anything.

"You were supposed to tell me about these ideas," Rachel murmured, nipple still between her teeth. The vibrations sent a jolt through Quinn and those hips pushed forward further. Rachel was just about tired of them rushing her. She slammed her own back into them, pinning her roughly against the wall.

"_Shit,_" Quinn groaned.

"Tell me, Fabray," she demanded and the use of her last name, formerly only used to flirt, pooled more wetness between her legs. The teeth moved to her other nipple, biting firmly, tongue swirling over the tip, and Quinn's appreciation of Rachel's mouth soared to a whole new level. The mouth that then wrapped around the entire front of her right breast and sucked like a goddamn baby. It was going to make her come on the spot.

She gripped the back of her suspenders and pushed hard, sending Rachel stumbling away from her.

The break in proximity produced a moment of gasping-filled silence until Quinn broke it out of necessity.

"You're going to finish me sooner than you want if you keep that up," Quinn warned.

"And that would be a problem because…"

"Because I don't want this to be over just yet," Quinn said and Rachel stepped back towards her with a glowering smile.

"Oh, honey, there are two words you need learn and quick, because I plan to make them part of our regular vocabulary," she purred, flipped each suspender off her shoulders, ripped her topped off, and slid back up to her girlfriend against the wall. "Multiple," kiss, "orgasms," kiss. "Now let me suck you silly."

And suck, she did. She wrapped her arms tightly around Quinn's waist and went to town. She switched between lapping at her whole breast, sucking her whole breast, sucking her nipples, biting her nipples, twisting them, pinching them, pulling them, kissing them. Back and forth, back and forth, she went. By the time Quinn had forgotten her own goddamn name, she was racked with a tingle intensive, flooding sensation that left her quivering, slowly slumping to the floor, and pushing Rachel's mouth off her raw nipples.

"Enough, enough, enough, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she panted and they settled to the floor, awkwardly entangled with each other. Rachel giggled and placed a kiss to Quinn's temple. "What the _hell_ was that, Rach?"

"You're not the only one with a fetish, lady. I've loved your tits since you were thirteen and sprouted them," she grinned.

"Did you just say tits?"

"You're going to hear me say a lot worse."

"Oh really?" Quinn beamed.

"Yeah, like are you going to fuck me sometime this evening or do I need to rape your breasts again to get some action out of you?"

Quinn's jaw dropped. She didn't need anything more than that. She yanked them up, flung Rachel to the bed and crawled on top of her, attacking every inch from her lips to her navel with kisses.

"Take my clothes off, Q," Rachel panted.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no," she snapped back and then proceeded to pull each suspender back onto each shoulder.

"Why are you redressing me?"

"Because it makes me wet, do you need another reason?"

Rachel groaned and thrust her hips up to meet Quinn's. The blonde forcefully rocked hers back down, hitting just the right spot with the bulk of her thigh. A cry ripped from Rachel's lips and Quinn buried her tongue inside the lip of Rachel's bra, effectively brushing over nipple. The girl squirming beneath her groaned.

Rachel batted Quinn away, ripped off her bra, and then pulled the blonde back to her chest.

"_Now_ go," she demanded and Quinn could only laugh. Even in the peak of their romantic relationship they were still driving each other insane.

"So impatient," Quinn muttered. Rachel gripped the back of her neck and yanked her up to pull Quinn's eyes to hers.

"I have all my life to make love to you. I don't care if tonight lasts six hours, six minutes or sixty seconds. It doesn't matter. Just take me, already. I waited long enough!" The demand did wonders for the pool of slick dripping down Quinn's thighs and she figured what the hell, the girl was right.

"As you wish, love," she cooed into her girlfriend's mouth, placed a sweet kiss, and moved her fingers to Rachel's belt buckle.

"Thank you, finally!"

Quinn unzipped her fly and Rachel's dress slacks fell apart at the waist, pulling the suspenders further apart as well.

"You're seriously leaving those clipped on?" Rachel questioned when she saw Quinn's eyes dancing over them.

"You better believe it," she groaned and slid her right hand into Rachel's underwear, over little curls and through her folds. They both collapsed into each other with moans and a few nips to bare shoulders.

Quinn couldn't believe life led her here, to Rachel Berry's deliciously intoxicating sex. It was warm, wet and so much like hers. Of course, because they were always paralleling, never leaving the same track. God, it felt like hers. And she knew hers about as well as she knew the back of her hand. Which meant she could make Rachel Berry's sing. Sing like the wind.

"Quinn?" Rachel breathed.

"Mm?" she said from the curve of the brunette's neck where she was currently lapping.

"Q."

"Hmmm?"

"Move your fingers already."

Oh. Right. She didn't realize she was still cupping Rachel, overwhelmed by just the feel of it all. Whoops.

"Time to make you sing, love," Quinn whispered into her neck and deftly stroked two fingers up Rachel's slit. Rachel's back arched and an elongated whimper danced from her lips. "Good first note," Quinn snickered.

Rachel's arms latched around Quinn's neck, their breasts pressed tight together, and Quinn rolled her fingers through her folds again. And again. And again. And then spun a circle around Rachel's entrance, dipping just inside the edge before pulling back out again.

"God, I should've known you were going to be a tease," Rachel murmured into Quinn's ear and bit down on her lobe.

"Yeah, you should've." Quinn responded by doing it again, and again, and again. Then she switched back to stroking the length of her and settled north this time, circling just close enough, but not close enough, around Rachel's nub. The girl arched so intensely she was raising them both off the bed. Quinn snaked her left arm underneath and around Rachel's waist, it would come in handy later when she needed something to grip.

Rachel's legs started trembling and Quinn knew it was just about time. She pulled her head up from Rachel's neck, locked her eyes on the brunette's and moved her fingers south. She didn't need to ask. She knew. There was no silent conversation. No assuring the other girl it was fine.

It was all goddamn fine. It was time, finally, and they wanted it. Quinn's fingers reached the familiar entrance and spun around the lip again. Rachel shivered beneath her and the blonde smiled.

"Kiss me, Q. Kiss me when you do it. Please," she panted out. And that, Quinn thought, was the best request she'd heard her entire life. She leaned forward, took Rachel's lips in hers and slowly pushed into the girl, taking and keeping one of the most important things Rachel would ever give her.

She dipped her tongue inside as her fingers pushed deep and Rachel's eyes rolled back in her head. This was as close to swallowing Quinn Fabray as she would ever get. She spread her legs wider, freeing up another inch or so for the blonde's fingers and pointedly pushing her knee between Quinn's legs.

A groan ripped from Quinn and Rachel swallowed it, too. Soon they found their rhythm: Quinn pushing in, curling out, swiping her thumb over her clit, and each time, Rachel bucked perfectly into the blonde's center: Intertwined beautifully once again.

The pleasure of it all racked the girls. They rolled with each other, gasped for air between kisses and felt the train storming towards them. There would be a crash. A big one. Faster and faster, tighter and tighter. They rolled hips, bucked, made love to each other's mouths and cried as it all exploded before raining down over them. Fate colliding never was a half-assed experience.

Their life, together, progressed just as they imagined it would. A little over two years had passed since graduation. The college years, if you will, were going pretty smoothly. Money would get tight, stresses would rise, and fights would happen, but they always made up in the best way possible: fucking each other silly.

Rachel landed her first role in an off-Broadway play about six months ago. Quinn asked why she didn't wear her lucky suspenders and Rachel just shrugged. Quinn knew she needed to know she got the part on her own, not because of the "lucky" accessory.

Quinn didn't have the heart to tell her they weren't actually lucky, but more so that Quinn just had an extreme obsession with them. She didn't understand why, maybe she never would.

Today was Rachel's 20th birthday. And Quinn had to work. Living in New York City meant Quinn couldn't take off work, unfortunately. She was a broke college student and they had an apartment to pay for. Rachel didn't take the news kindly. She had one of her diva freak-outs, stormed out that afternoon and let Quinn go to work depressed and worried she'd really screwed up. Maybe she had.

But in this moment, all she knew was that she had tables to serve. Endless tables and endless tips. She had to make it worth it after all.

When she got home that night at two a.m., she expected to find either a passed out Rachel in their bed or a pissed off Rachel on their couch. What she didn't expect, was to come home to no Rachel at all. Her heart sank.

Four a.m. rolled around and she heard a car pull up outside. Her nerves had gone crazy over the past two hours. Was Rachel hurt? Lost? Drunk? Pissed? Making a mistake she'd regret in the morning?

Quinn padded over to the window and watched Rachel's castmate, Sean, help pull her out of the cab.

"Great," Quinn muttered. She watched him grip her girlfriend a little too tight, watched him hold on a little too long, and watched Drunk Rachel stumble and laugh and flirt a little too inappropriately.

Quinn never doubted the girl's faithfulness, but the fact that there was someone out there who wanted Rachel made her queasy. It made her think she would have to be on her game for the rest of her life to keep the incredible specimen that was Rachel Berry.

She wondered if God understood the love she had for Rachel.

She'd never quite found her balance between those subjects. Rachel captured her heart, everything else made space where it could. When Sean walked her to the door, Rachel didn't even hesitate to open and shut it in his expecting face. Quinn smirked. Chump.

A few minutes later, Quinn heard the front door opening, quietly clicking shut, and feet tip-toeing across the living room floor. She was so considerate. Quinn knew she wasn't angry. Angry divas don't tip-toe. And that fact, it gave her an idea. She slid herself against the wall behind the door of their bedroom and waited.

This would be fun.

Rachel padded up to the closed door, stopped for a second, listened, and then quietly pushed the door open before clicking it shut behind her. Her eyes scanned the empty room, the empty bed, and the doorway to the empty bathroom.

"Q?" she whispered. Quinn took her cue, stepped forward and pushed Rachel into the opposite wall front first.

"At your service," she purred into the girl's ear before kicking her feet further apart, sliding her free hand around the girl's hip, under her coat and deftly undoing her belt, button and zipper.

"Oh god, baby. What are you doing?"

"You."

"Mmm, yes please," she whimpered. Quinn fumbled with the now open pants fly, pushing harder to get the pants to pool at the brunette's feet. Logic was defying her though and they stayed up.

"What is, I don't, what's the problem?" Quinn stuttered, frustration overcoming her. Rachel giggled, bucked Quinn off her and spun around.

Her fingers sensually made their way down her coat's buttons, flung it off her shoulders and revealed the issue: Black suspenders.

They held the opened pants onto the brunette's hips and Quinn about swallowed her tongue. Day 1121 arrived with a bang.

"Fuck me, Q. You know you want to. You miss a girl's birthday, you at least owe her a good fucking."

"Christ, Rachel. New York's made you raunchy."

"You fucking love it. Now take me, make me yours again. I know you were watching us. Did his hands on me make you squirm?"

Quinn growled, spun Rachel back around and shoved her into the wall.

"That's it, Q. Yes. Rough and hard."

"Rough and hard?"

"Yes. I'm pissed off, remember? You failed me tonight. And you never fail me. So make it right again. Make it up to me, take what's yours."

"You're mine," she growled, unclipped the suspenders and watched the pants flutter to the ground. She ripped them off Rachel's shoulders, lined them up together and after yanking the brunette's arms behind her back, she tied them around her wrists.

With a firm shove back into the wall, flush up against Rachel's breasts and cheek, Quinn was ready to take what was hers however she could. She spread the wide neck of Rachel's blouse and ripped it down over her shoulders. It pooled at her tied wrists.

She planted kisses between the taut shoulder blades, growling beneath her breathe as Rachel's tied hands hit between her own legs.

"Fuck if that's not gonna work out perfectly," Quinn groaned and rocked herself against the hands. Rachel maneuvered them quickly to get better leverage and provided some friction the next time Quinn rolled into them. A moan wrenched from Quinn. She was practically humping the suspenders and she could feel the wetness seeping through her underwear and onto Rachel's fingers. Rachel growled in frustration.

"Really? You're gonna skip my birthday, tie me up, and them hump me til you get off? Screw this, Quinn," she growled and bucked off the wall. Quinn slammed back into her, releasing for half a second to pull her sleep tank off before slamming back against her.

"Oh, no. That's not at all how this is going to work."

"Then do tell before I lose interest," Rachel snapped. The playful dig hit too hard in Quinn's heart due to her previous ponderings and she had to brush it off to keep this rough and hard charade going.

"I'm taking you, every part of you."

"Tell me more," she bucked back into Quinn, digging her fingers deep into Quinn's panties. The blonde moaned and pushed forward, Rachel's fingers finding her entrance and pushing in as far as the underwear would dip with her.

"Look at you, you can't even wait," Quinn growled and snaked a hand down to Rachel's front, easily sliding her fingers into her underwear and immediately deep inside. The cry/moan that escaped her girlfriend's lips was like nothing she had heard before. It made everything Quinn was about to do okay in her eyes.

She plunged in and out of the brunette, teeth on her neck, hips humping her tied hands.

"Does it piss you off that I get to be so deep inside you and you're left fucking my underwear?" Quinn growled in her ear, following it with a vicious bite.

"More than anything. You know it does. I love being inside you."

"I know you do, but not before I take all of you."

"You a_re _taking me, Q. Look at us," she said with a head jerk to the full length mirror across the room on the opposite wall.

The image hit Quinn like a freight train. God, she loved that woman. She loved the blonde woman staking claim on her. She loved everything Rachel made of her and vice versa. They were perfect. And now she would take Rachel to new heights. She had to give her this.

"If you think this," she enunciated with a hard curl of her fingers, hooking into Rachel, "is all I'm taking, you're sadly mistaken." Rachel groaned and tried to shove her fingers deeper to no avail. Quinn brought her left hand down to Rachel's backside, gripped her thong and shoved it to the floor. Quinn kicked the girl's legs back apart and trailed her left hand over Rachel's left hip, under her tied hands and down between those perfect ass cheeks.

The gasp that Rachel released told Quinn this was going to be good, really fucking good. She pressed a finger to the tip of Rachel's puckered entrance and leaned forward, lips to ear.

"Five seconds before I push in. This is your window to tell me to stop," she purred. The girl moaned.

"Take it, Q. You know it's yours anyway."

"Best answer I ever heard," she growled and pushed her left pointer finger slowly into the new territory. It closed tight, so tight, around her finger and in that moment she understood the obsession guys had with anal sex. She now had it, too.

She pushed deeper with her left and curled harder with her right and Rachel slowly unraveled beneath her. When her left finger was knuckle deep and Rachel stopped shaking, she pulled back, pushed in and held. Then she pulled out, circled her clit, pushed back in with her right, and curled tightly.

Then came the left. And then the right. And then two on the left. Rachel was trembling, her fingers uncontrollably jerking, her forehead smashed flush against the wall. It was all too much.

But then Quinn started doing it all at the same time. And Rachel didn't remember what "too much" meant. She was going to come and she hoped she lived through it to kiss this girl one more time. The kissing was her favorite. Always had been.

Her fingers found a mind of their own and gripped at Quinn's soaked underwear until they were effectively moved to the side. She shoved three fingers in and listened as the girl cried into her shoulder, the five fingers inside her below stopped their heavenly routine and Rachel worked with what she could and furiously, three fingers inside and two thumbs pinching the girl's clit.

Quinn sputtered, whimpered, and choked back cries as she came undone behind Rachel. She shook, convulsed and collapsed on Rachel's back. The brunette purred.

"Mmm, does this mean I win?" She knew what the comment would do. It was her purpose all along.

Quinn snapped back to attention and furiously drove her hands in and out of Rachel. Rachel's world collided with some black hole of the universe and she lost herself. It scared her. Her fingers fumbled for anything Quinn and the blonde felt it.

"Rach, I'm right here," she whispered, slowing a bit and leaning forward to catch the brunette's cheek with her lips. "Right here, babe."

"Oh god, there you are. C'mere," she whimpered, cranked her head to the right and Quinn obliged, kissing her deeply, slowly working her fingers back into their rhythm.

Rachel broke their kiss to gasp some air and the faces the girl was making were enough to almost make Quinn come again. Her eyelids fluttered at their own accord, her chin quivered, her nostrils flared.

"Kiss me, love. Fill me everywhere," she begged. Quinn rocked her hips back into Rachel's hand, the statement far too sexy for her to handle. God, she loved her. She slipped her tongue into Rachel's mouth and groaned at the feeling of taking every hole Rachel offered up to her.

"Mm, happy birthday, beautiful," she moaned into her mouth as she kissed her deeply and pounded her right fingers into that beautiful spot before Rachel shrieked into her mouth and exploded underneath her.

After that, Quinn held her as her lights went out.

When Rachel woke the next morning, she was in bed, though she never remembered actually getting _into_ bed. She rustled under the sheets, pulling one back and groaning as the sunlight hit her.

"Morning," Quinn whispered.

Rachel's attention snapped up to Quinn sitting Indian style beneath her at the foot of the bed. Her eyebrows crumpled in confusion and Quinn placed a tray full of breakfast goodies to their side.

"I made you breakfast."

"I'm in bed."

"That's why they call it breakfast in bed. Could you please sit up and wake up and get coherent quicker than normal. That would make this a lot easier," Quinn rambled.

"Make what easier and why are you nervous?"

"Sit up, Rach. Please," Quinn begged from her spot on the bed. Rachel begrudgingly pulled herself up and took Quinn in: white beater, white undies, messy bun, no make-up, bright hazel eyes. How did she manage to land this girl?

"You look really pretty," Rachel said with a shy smile. Quinn tucked a stray hair behind her ear and smiled sweetly. She shuffled herself closer to the sleepy diva and steeled herself.

"Rach-"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Why are you being weird? You're starting to freak me out."

"I'm trying to tell you!"

"But what could you have to tell me, why are you acting so strange, what did I do? Are you breaking up with me? Is that why you made me this breakfast in bed, to soften the blow?" she trembled, tears forming in her eyes.

"Rach-"

"If I did something, just say it. I swear I didn't do anything with Sean, he just brought me home, if that's what this is-"

Quinn brought her lips down on Rachel's firmly, but sweetly. The trembling girl eventually melted into the kiss and Quinn snaked her fingers into the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her closer, dipping her tongue softly inside. Rachel finally squirmed and broke away, wiping her mouth and looking embarrassed.

"Morning mouth, love. You don't want delve in there," she joked. Quinn pulled her back into the kiss with a smirk and again, slipped her tongue inside. This time Rachel didn't fight it. Quinn kissed her, trying as hard she could to make it the kiss Rachel would always remember taking her breath away, knocking her senses out, and stealing her focus. She needed it to.

Because when Quinn pulled away, a small box sat atop the comforter in the middle of Rachel's lap. She didn't notice at first, which made Quinn giggle slightly. Her eyes were still dreamily half-lidded and her lips curled up in a satisfied smile. Quinn cocked an eyebrow and Rachel finally came to, questioning the look.

Finally, her eyes lowered south and landed on the box. Quinn held her breath. The brunette froze before ever-so-slowly reaching down to retrieve it. She pulled the top open with just as much delicacy and the diamond ring lit her face with a glow just like Quinn imagined it would. The silence around them fit, too, like all she really needed to hear were the breaths escaping Rachel's lips and the pounding of her own heart.

Rachel's tear-filled eyes finally peeled up to meet Quinn's. She could tell the brunette was trembling, yet again, for entirely different reasons, and her mouth opened to say something before popping closed again.

Mission accomplished: Rachel Berry was speechless.

"Marry me," Quinn said. Rachel's eyes widened, her jaw falling low. The silence was now deafening, Quinn's heart pounding out of her chest, the heavy breathing now making her nervous. And then her girlfriend squealed, launching herself at the blonde.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" she screamed, peppering kisses all over Quinn's face as they fell back onto the bed. "Yes. Absolutely yes. Today, tomorrow, all the days, every day."

Quinn erupted with a belly laugh and it easily became her favorite day of their life together thus far.


	5. Chapter 5

Two years later, Day 1822 arrived as expected. She thought about not counting this day, but the suspenders were there, so she had to. However, Quinn donned them today, per Rachel's request. She stated that it was time to let Rachel have a bit of the fun and if Quinn was wearing slacks on their wedding day, then by God, they were going to be held up with suspenders. Black ones. Rachel's. And they were, beautifully.

Quinn spent most of the wedding and reception teasing her new wife. She tried to make Rachel see the wonder of this amazing accessory. She snapped them on the dance floor. She twisted them around her finger at during their best friends' speeches. Rachel's eyes never left them. Her tongue would snake out across her lip before her teeth bit down and Quinn knew she had her. Rachel got it now. She'd be pooling wetness all, day, long.

And Quinn couldn't be happier.

Their wedding went off with all the expected invitees, with the exception of Russel and Judy Fabray who were not expected, but showed anyway. The elation in Quinn's heart at their final acceptance of their daughter proved more powerful than she thought it would.

She always told herself she didn't need their acceptance. Clearly she didn't need them in her life; look at what she had made of herself on her own. She was marrying the bourgeoning new Broadway star, she just landed her first teaching job at a private school in the city right out of college, and they'd purchased their first home, ready to walk the threshold together that evening.

But the acceptance, that made the difference. Everything in Quinn's life was perfect on that day. And as she and Rachel walked across the threshold together, arms looped around each other's waists, she couldn't believe how perfect the map of their life had been drawn.

It seemed like a map of the stars, everything purposefully and perfectly laid out. Her father raising her hand that night in second grade, forbidding her friendship with Rachel Berry, seemed like the perfect stepping stone now looking back. She wouldn't change a thing. Maybe she'd change the torment she rained down on the girl, but even with that, Rachel attributed her thick skin and strong willpower to Quinn for continuously building that within her.

Everything they could find to maybe deem a regret, they realized served a purpose. It was beautiful. And tonight solidified it forever.

Rachel laid her down on the bed before stepping back to slowly strip her hair of its diamond crusted bobby pins. Each second a new strand fell to her bare shoulders, the white wedding dress hugging tightly to her torso, her hips, and then flooding out at her thighs. Quinn had never seen something so beautiful, so angelic.

"What are you thinking?" Rachel asked, knocking her ears off with that smile yet again. Quinn unbuttoned her blouse beneath the suspenders and pulled it free of her pants. Next, she unclasped her bra and tossed it to the floor. Rachel's eyes raked over Quinn in nothing but suspenders and grey slacks. Fuck, she was hot.

"Just that you look so angelic. So pure," Quinn answered.

"Quinn," Rachel started as she zipped the side zipper down, and stepped slowly out of her dress. She hung it back on the torso mannequin in the corner of the room and walked back to Quinn wearing pitch black lingerie. "I don't want to be pure tonight."

"Mm, you don't look pure _anymore_."

"We were pure and innocent the morning you proposed. The day after. The week after. The months after. Most of the two years after. Right now, I am tired of pure. You are legally and beautifully mine and I plan on celebrating that."

"How so?" Quinn gulped.

"I'll show you," she growled and crawled up to straddle Quinn's hips. "You've been teasing me all day long with these," she said, running her fingers up and down each suspender, letting them fall a little into Quinn's slacks on the way down.

"You've been teasing me for _seven years_ with them," Quinn retorted.

"Okay, point taken. But you've been able to have your fun, now it's my turn." Rachel unclipped the suspenders and pulled them off Quinn.

"That's no fun, you're taking them off?"

"Hush, love," Rachel purred before dragging Quinn's hands up the mattress above their heads, and pressing their chests flat together as their lips met. Rachel kissed her slowly at first, enjoying the feeling of their first kiss on their wedding night.

That's something that needed to be sweet.

And then the switch flipped. She broke free and crawled further up Quinn, her knees scrambling on either side of Quinn's stomach, her breasts, her shoulder, and then her face.

Quinn gasped at the view and nipped Rachel's inner thigh before running her tongue down the center of Rachel's underwear.

"Oh, god," Rachel groaned. "Okay, maybe my idea can wait just a second." She laced her fingers in Quinn's hair with one hand and slid her panties to the side with the other. "There you go, eager girl. Go to town."

Quinn dove back in, sliding her tongue all throughout Rachel Berry. Her wife. Her soul mate. Her second grade best friend for a day. Something inside her loved being controlled by Rachel. It happened a little less often than she liked, but there was also something in her that fucking loved controlling Rachel Berry, so really she couldn't lose.

She sucked Rachel's clit into her mouth, sucking over and over, pulling more in than normal so she could flick her tongue over the nub still inside her mouth. Rachel went wild at that that. The sucking and the flicking drove her crazy and soon she was riding Quinn's face. When the blonde dug her tongue up into Rachel's core, swirling and licking the edges of her walls, Rachel released a weak wail.

She could _still_ make this girl sing. And sing, she did. She came apart on Quinn's mouth, just about drowning her with juices. Once her convulsing finally subsided, Rachel reached down, snapped her underwear back in place and brought her mouth to Quinn's.

"Let me taste," she purred before slipping her tongue inside the blonde's mouth. Quinn opened her mouth wide for this kiss, letting Rachel lap up anything and everything she wanted to. Once done, Rachel moved her kisses to Quinn's cheeks, chin, jaw, successfully cleaning her beautiful wife.

She straightened back up after that, crawling north again. The brunette ripped Quinn's wrists along with her and before the blonde knew it, Rachel had tied each wrist to a slit in the headboard with her suspenders. The immediate reaction to that realization sent shockwaves straight to her clit.

And then Rachel was gone after one demand: "Take off your pants." She popped the top snap open for Quinn, unzipped them, gave a small yank and then walked away. She pranced into the bathroom, shut the door, and left her half naked wife on her bed. Quinn shimmied and shimmied and shimmied her pants off. It took five minutes. And when Quinn realized it took five minutes and Rachel wasn't back yet, confusion arose.

And then ten minutes passed.

"Rachel!" she growled. "Rachel, what the fuck? Get out here!"

And then twenty minutes passed.

"Rachel Berry! I swear to God, I will murder you if you leave me tied to our bed on our wedding night! Get. Out. Here!"

A furious Quinn finally stopped jerking at the headboard after thirty minutes. Slowly the long day crept up on her and her hooded eyes won the battle. Sleep took her over.

Rachel waited another five minutes after the last sound she heard before cracking the door open. She peaked around the corner and stole a glance at the bed. Sure enough, Quinn was asleep. Perfect, she giggled inside.

She padded quietly over to below the foot of the bed and raked her eyes over her naked and bound wife. She picked up her wedding present from Quinn and snapped a Polaroid. It expelled the photo and Rachel shook it in the air before dropping it to the dresser. She would need a reminder of the day she fully conquered Quinn Fabray.

Rachel set the camera down quietly and unsnapped her bra before tossing it to the ground. This was gonna be good. This was gonna be really good. She needed Quinn angry and Quinn was no doubt going to wake very, very angry.

Goosebumps shot up Rachel's arms and down the back of her thighs. She shivered at the thought and slowly, easily, laid one knee and then the next onto the bed between Quinn's legs.

She watched the blonde's chest rise and fall in rhythmic fashion. Rachel's head cocked left: Quinn really was gorgeous. Undeniably. She hoped she would be just as gorgeous furiously angry. Rachel rarely saw that side of her. She loved her dearly for that, for being carefree, happy, elated with their life.

She slid forward another inch, her right hand reaching down between her legs to steady her newly attached silicone friend. They'd never done this before. They always talked about how it would be nice, how Quinn wanted it, how Rachel wanted it. They even bought the equipment, but something about feeling your fingers inside the other always won out for the girls.

Not tonight, Rachel thought. Tonight Quinn would get what she wants. She slid forward another inch, taking in the glistening center of her wife. Thank god she was still wet. Rachel feared the abandonment stage of her plan was going to dry Quinn out faster than a cotton ball.

But have no fear, her girl was soaked. Rachel placed the tip of the strap-on against Quinn's entrance and watched her. She waited for movement. She waited for a shift, a gruff, anything.

Nothing came. So Rachel rolled her hips forward just slightly, watching Quinn's body swallow the tip.

Rachel looked back. Quinn shifted slightly, rolling her head to the other side before settling again. Rachel tried not to laugh, her abs trembling with delight and shoulders shaking with chuckles.

Oh this was going to really, really fun. She pushed a little deeper with more force than she thought she'd need. Quinn was deliciously tight. A light whimper escaped the blonde's lips and Rachel giggled silently again. Okay, enough play, it was time.

She pushed forward a little more forcefully and that did it. Quinn moaned, bleary eyes creeping open slightly before Rachel forced herself all the way in and quickly.

Quinn arched completely off the bed, mouth gaping, swallowing air, shoulders pulled tightly back towards the headboard and her eyes finally focusing on one Rachel Berry, between her legs, pushed deep inside her with a strap-on.

Fuck, it was too much to process. And then Rachel was pulling out and thrusting back in and Quinn wailed as she collapsed onto the bed.

"Oh my god, you are _such_, oh god, _such_ a bitch, Rachel Berry!" Quinn cried out, fingers gripping and yanking on the suspenders holding her captive. "You look sexy as hell, but you such a fucking _bitch_."

Rachel smirked and pumped harder.

"My name is Rachel Berry-Fabray to you, _bitch_," Rachel snapped and thrust further inside. Quinn's "O" face returned and her eyes rolled back. She rocked her hips up and instead of pulling out, Rachel shoved deeper.

"Yes, yes, keep going. God I wanna feel you in my fucking throat," Quinn pleaded.

"I don't follow your orders right now," Rachel snapped back and yanked out, all the way out. She was prepared for this moment. Or she thought she was.

Quinn's yelp died down quickly and her livid hazel eyes landed on Rachel's, burning a whole straight through.

"Get back inside me," she gritted through her clenched jaw.

"No."

"Get. Back. Inside. Me."

"No."

"Rachel."

"_Fabray_," Rachel taunted and that's when it dawned on Quinn, what Rachel was doing. She wanted Berry to fuck Fabray tonight. The thought churned her insides with such steam she couldn't hold back the shiver it released. Rachel saw it. Fuck, Rachel saw it. The glint in her eyes pissed Quinn off. She was getting off on this control, relishing in high school fantasies not had. All those years she was tortured by a completely different Quinn. She wanted that Quinn tonight so Berry could fuck her senseless. Talk about sweet revenge.

"I hate you," Quinn growled.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Rachel taunted yet again.

"I was different back then."

"You were vicious," Rachel added with a nip to Quinn's kneecap. She gripped a leg in each hand and spread Quinn wide. Quinn snapped her legs back closed, as closed as she could with Rachel kneeling between them.

"I was confused."

"You were dreadful. Horrible. Maddening," Rachel dragged her nails- wait, she had nails now?- down Quinn's thighs. She'd have red marks in the morning.

"You grew nails just to scratch me?"

"Yes."

Quinn's center pooled at the thought.

"I need you inside me," Quinn pleaded, her resolve fading quickly.

"Say it."

"I can't."

"Sure you can. You said it every school day of your life from second grade until you finally kissed me and I fully became Rachel."

"I don't want to call you that."

"You owe me this," Rachel demanded and scratched her nails down Quinn's torso, over her nipples and across her abs.

"I, I what?"

"I said you owe me. We never really talk about us before you changed in a negative way. We always see the good. I love that about us. I don't regret anything, you don't regret anything, and we don't resent each other. But tonight, my inner sixteen year old wants to fuck the tormentor she crushed on for years. Give me this."

Quinn thought on everything Rachel just released from the vaults of emotion. Crushed on for years?

"How long?"

"Don't you know?" Rachel asked, a little taken aback. Quinn shook her head. Rachel slid up Quinn's body, settling herself on top and looked deep into Quinn's eyes. "You're not the only one who fell for her best friend in second grade," she whispered with a tear in her eye.

Quinn sighed and brought their lips together, softly, and kissed the gorgeous woman she had the privilege to call her wife. The kiss deepened, tongues sliding against each other and Quinn made her decision. She loved this woman. And just hours ago, she promised, vowed, to give her anything she would ever need.

She took a deep breath inside Rachel's mouth and whimpered a barely audible apology before biting down roughly on Rachel's bottom lip. The girl cried out and wrenched back, shock on her face.

"Get the _fuck_ off me, Berry!" Quinn spat. Rachel quivered back at the tone. Quinn bucked beneath her, pulling at her ties and shoving her legs further together, almost forcing Rachel off the bed.

"Oh, no, no, no you don't," Rachel replied and crawled back between them.

"What are you gonna do, Manhands? Fuck me? Nobody fucks Quinn Fabray. Quinn Fabray fucks _them_."

"Oh yeah? Then how come you're spread for me?" Rachel questioned with a raised eyebrow and slid closer, the tip of the strap-on rubbing at Quinn's sex. She groaned. "Look at you, you can't even deny it. Quinn Fabray wants RuPaul. Can you believe it?"

"I swear to God, I will ruin you."

"I'm gonna ruin you right now," Rachel retorted and pushed in deep, all the way deep. Quinn cried out, arching up away from the bed.

"God, yesss," Quinn hissed, her bottom lip about to bleed from the hold her teeth had on it. Rachel continued thrusting in and out, twisting her hips, giving the girl all she had. Quinn's hips rocked furiously, pleading for more and more and more as Rachel's thighs started to burn.

"You're not even fighting it anymore, Quinn. You're practically begging me," she emphasized it by stopping her thrusts. She watched Quinn continue to hump the toy inside, whimpering because it just quite wasn't the same. Rachel backed up just a bit more, taking even more away from the girl. Quinn's furious eyes flashed into hers and Rachel smirked. "Beg me."

"I don't fucking beg."

"You will."

"I especially don't beg you, _Berry_."

Rachel twisted her hips and the tip of the strap spun around right inside Quinn's entrance. The blonde's chin quivered and Rachel thanked the lucky stars she had a wife who endulged her fantasies in such a hot fucking manner.

"Beg me!"

"Never," Quinn spat. Rachel pulled out even further, the tip now brushing over Quinn's clit, a slow torturous feeling. Her eyes rolled back in her head and a barely audible whimper escaped her lips.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Rachel taunted, pushing a bit harder, driving the strap-on into her clit once again.

"I said, please," Quinn mumbled.

"I don't quite figure that as begging there, Miss Fabray. Try harder." Quinn grumbled relentlessly, putting on quite a show for her lovely wife. Oh to be torn between having to pretend you don't want it and wanting nothing more than it.

"I want you," she mumbled.

"Who wants who?" Rachel said and lowered the strap-on back to Quinn's entrance, happy with the slight progress. Quinn sighed at the feeling.

"I, Quinn Fabray," she paused to swallow, "want you, Manhands, Treasure Trail, RuPaul, Stubbles, fucking Hobbity Elf to _fuck. me."_

Rachel's eyes widened, "Hobbity Elf?"

"RACHEL!"

"Sorry!"

At that, she plunged deep inside her. Rachel pounded away at her relentlessly. She knew she'd found that spot when Quinn's legs wrapped tightly around her, holding her deep inside. She rocked tightly against the strap-on, hitting her spot over and over. Rachel watched in awe.

"That's it, fuck me, Berry," Quinn cooed.

Rachel leaned forward and captured the girl's mouth with her own. She kissed her deeply and wantonly. Quinn moaned, her hips still tightly bucking to rub that spot over and over and over again.

"Oh god, I'm making out with Rachel Berry and I've never tasted anything better," Quinn murmured and sucked Rachel's tongue. Rachel was beside herself with love, with childhood fantasy-fulfillment, with everything. "I want to eat you alive, you taste so good." Rachel's clit went wild beneath the insert pressing on it every time Quinn rocked her hips. She was going to come undone and Quinn's words alone.

"Tell me more."

"I used to dread seeing you in the hallways. Now I'm gonna wanna lie down, spread my legs, and beg you take me. I'm gonna be wet constantly." Rachel's eyes fluttered shut, her clit burning with heat. Quinn started to tremble beneath her.

"Q," Rachel whispered. Quinn's eyes shot open and found hers.

"What, baby?"

"I wanna come with you."

"I'm right here."

"No, with _you_, with you. Let's bury the ghosts forever. You gave me enough," she said with another shiver as Quinn rocked.

"Untie me," she pleaded. "I need-"

"I know," Rachel stopped her. She reached her arms out to the left and right and released her wife. Quinn winced as her arms sprawled south. Rachel placed a kiss on each shoulder before those arms slid tightly around her neck.

Rachel sucked lightly at Quinn's neck, her face buried in that beautiful blonde hair. They rocked slowly together, completely transitioning to a different air.

"I love you," Quinn murmured, her arms tightening.

"I know you do."

"Take my breath away, baby," Quinn begged and Rachel snuck an arm down between them, circling Quinn's clit slowly. The insert rocked into hers over and over as they slowly grinded into each other. Quinn's trembling turned to convulsing. "That's it, that's it, that's it," she panted before gasping and coming undone, shoving her hips up to meet Rachel's, effectively sending her wife over as well.

Rachel collapsed on top of her, muttering I love you over and over again. Quinn sighed, painfully happy.

Day 3225 came quicker than the two imagined life would let it. Quinn walked into their home on the fourth floor, kicked off her shoes and rounded the corner into the dining room. It was their four year wedding anniversary and Quinn wondered how the brunette decided to spend it this year.

What she found took her breath away, yet again. Rachel sat at their kitchen table wearing pajamas. She had on a bright pink t-shirt, lime green underwear, and black suspenders clipped to them.

Quinn smiled, set her briefcase down, and chuckled.

"Honey, what are you doing? You have suspenders clipped to your underwear. How was your show? And why are there candles lit?"

"C'mere," she merely said. Quinn arched an eyebrow and walked over to the woman of her dreams. She stood before her and Rachel wrapped her hands around the girl's hips before standing up in front of her.

"What's going on?"

"I need to ask you something. Something very, very simple. It's a yes or no question, Q, okay? Just yes or no. Either answer is fine."

"You're scaring me."

Rachel stepped forward and pecked her lightly with a smile.

"Don't be scared, love."

"Okay," Quinn muttered. "But why are you wearing the suspenders?"

"I need a little luck on my side right now," she mumbled, gathering herself before pulling her eyes back up to Quinn's.

"I need you to speak before I start freaking out."

"I want you to have our baby." To say Quinn was shocked would've been a lie. About two years ago they figured Quinn would have the children. She wanted to. She loved the way Beth felt inside her and she wanted nothing more than to give Rachel a baby to love. She just, she never expected the brunette to ask her like this. Granted, she didn't really ask.

"Where's the question in there, Rach?" she smirked. Rachel scowled and then gathered herself back up.

"Will you give us a child? Please say you will," she pleaded. And that look, that look right there that Rachel was giving her, would be the look that would forever be engrained in Quinn's mind as _her_ Rachel Berry.

Rachel sat rocking in the nursery on her favorite day of the week: Sunday. She sang Lillian her favorite songs on Sundays. She walked her through the park, read her a few books, and then topped the day off with Rockin' Tunes, as Rachel called it.

She felt more than blessed to hold her baby girl in her arms. She felt more than blessed to have a wife that didn't even hesitate to say yes to her pleading for a baby. It didn't take them a week to get their first appointment made. They took Rachel's eggs, selected a male look-a-like to Quinn, and then the blonde carried her. She had a little bit of both of them, even if she was the spitting image of Rachel Berry: deep brown eyes, chocolate hair, olive skin. They were almost a little glad when they saw Rachel's genes dominated.

Quinn walked up to the nursery, took site of her girls, and rested against the door frame.

"You're more beautiful today than you ever have been," she whispered at the brunette. Rachel beamed and then smiled brightly down at her daughter.

"I think she does it to me. I just… "

"You glow."

"Yeah," she smiled. "Did you pick it up?"

"I did."

"How does it look?"

"Come see," Quinn purred and turned to walk down the hall. Rachel stood slowly and followed her to their bedroom. Quinn walked to the empty wall space beside their huge wall window and pulled a large frame from the brown bag on the floor.

She turned it around, laid it flat on the wall, and Rachel gasped with a few tears.

The black framed shadow box hung brightly for them to view. Quinn grinned widely.

"The guy at the store asked me what sports jersey we were hanging in it."

"Delusional."

"Right?"

Rachel took in the frame perfectly displaying her lucky black suspenders slung over an invisible fishing line. It's like they draped shoulders in midair, two imperfectly drawn life lines. Quinn and Rachel.

Always parallel, always together. It was perfect.

"You sure you're never gonna wanna wear them again?" Quinn asked, placing a kiss on Lillian's forehead and then her wife's lips. Rachel smiled.

"I couldn't possibly need any more luck."


End file.
